Hell's Angel: Civil War
by Nightwingbellamy
Summary: After moving to London, Alison and Chase start a new life. Dani is back in Hell's Kitchen trying to pick up the pieces that remain from her former life. But when freedom is threatened, the team is forced to reassemble to fight a new enemy no one saw coming. And this time, it's friend against friend, and what happens to Hell's Kitchen is the least of their problems.
1. Prologue: Killing Ward

**Dani's POV  
** (Nightwing27th)

I felt something shake me and my eyes shot open. I was instantly on high alert. I did a quick glance around. Nothing but sand for miles. Everything had this annoying blue tint to it. I closed my eyes and laid my head back. "Come on," Frank said, slapping my arm. "Rise and shine." I groaned and opened my eyes just to see him stand. His gun still draped across his shoulder, finger on the trigger.

He walked around me as I sat up. That was a stupid idea. But it worked. Maybe. How do we even know this is the right planet? Okay. That sounded terribly weird. Like, 'I'm losing my mind' weird. Because I am. This hunt for Ward has been crazy, and most of it was unnecessary. Frank offered his hand and I took it. He pulled me to my feet and then moved on.

"You alright, Sir?" he asked Coulson, reaching his hand down to him. I rolled my eyes. Kiss up. Coulson took it, looking just as confused at our surroundings as I was. The planet was mainly sand, according to Simmons. And it looks like she was right. We had landed at the base of a large sand hill, after jumping out of the jet.

It was in the heat of the moment. Ward had just gone through with either Fitz or Simmons. They were about to close the portal and we were running out of time. Frank had jumped first, refusing to let Ward get away again. Coulson and I quickly followed. But from the looks of it, the portal has closed.

"I'm okay," Coulson said, standing. He glanced around, landing on something over Frank's shoulder. I turned and followed his gaze. "Huh." Another planet hung in the atmosphere, so close it looked like it'd collide with the one we're on. "Tatooine." I smiled at the Star Wars reference and then moved on.

I looked at Coulson. "We need to find them. We can't be too far behind."

"Agreed." He unclipped his parachute, reminding me to do the same. Then he pulled out his gun, dropping the clip and shaking out loose sand. I dropped my parachute and then walked a few feet away. I spun, trying to get a better look at everything. But there wasn't really much to look at. "Come on."

I turned around to look at Coulson, but he was already moving. Frank followed suit, ignoring me. He is _too_ mission oriented. Like, really. I sigh. "Okay. Fine." I said, reaching for my hand gun. "Let's just…wonder the dessert on a wasteland planet." I griped the gun in my right hand and followed after them. "Hey, I know." I stopped and pointed off to the side. "Let's ask that rock for directions."

Coulson stopped ten feet ahead and turned back to look at me, unimpressed. Frank walked passed him and sojourned on. "What?" I tossed my arms to the side. Coulson gave me a look I've seen a million times, then turned around and kept walking. I sighed, long and hard. I rolled my eyes and started walking. "You know," I shouted so they could hear me, "I know I said I'd do anything to find Ward, go to the ends of the Earth. But I think we passed that."

I eventually caught up to them, with no thanks to them. We walked for what seemed like forever. Everything looked the same, I felt like we were going in circles. Then, finally we came across some tracks. A part of me wondered if they were ours, but I knew that wasn't true. We stopped and looked around.

"There's at least five men," Frank said, looking down at the prints.

"Or one just ran in circles," I sighed. I looked up at him, my eyes locking on his. He was glaring at me. And, not the normal glare. This was the 'when we first met' glare. "Fine. Shutting up." I sighed and walked up to Coulson. He was holding a jacket he'd found near the side of the embankment. He looked at it a minute and then tossed it.

"This way," he said, before practically jumping down the hilly sand cliff. I followed, going down it sideways as to not lose my footing. I heard Frank behind me, but wasn't concerned about him getting lost. Since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., he's been glued to my side. It was nice at first and then grew into the biggest ball of annoyance.

We followed the tracks for, again, what felt like forever. I'm sure we've been walking for miles. And not much of the scenery had changed. But then the wind picked up. Like, hard. But we kept moving. We came to a clearing, with a few large rocks, just as the storm worsened. We must be near the center of it.

The wind was blowing sand so hard, it stung when it hit your skin. Thankfully, not much of mine was showing. And all the flying sand was making it hard to see. But even if we could, the tracks are long gone. I put my hand up to shield my face as I tried to look around. We had to keep moving, the only question was where.

And then something caught my eye. I saw three figures walking about fifty feet away, deep in the storm. The back of my hand smacked Frank in the arm. He looked down at me and I pointed at the people. He brought up his gun and started walking. I held up mine, tiny in comparison, and followed. Coulson doing the same.

As we got closer, we started to see who it was. Ward and two men. My pulse went from zero to off the charts in the blink of an eye. Frank shot the guy on the right as I shot the one on the left. Ward turned around just as Coulson shot him. Ward flew back and to the ground. He quickly sprang forward for his gun. I jogged the last few feet, putting my foot on top of his hand which had just found the gun.

I aimed mine down at him as he glared up at me. Everything in me wanted to pull the trigger right there. Get it over with, finish it. But I knew I couldn't. Fitz, or Simmons, was nowhere in sight. And, we need a way off the planet. "Dylan," he smirked, removing his hand. He glanced at Coulson and Frank. His eyes lingered on Frank a little longer than I would've liked. Then, finally he landed on Coulson. "You'll never find Fitz without me."

"I'm not here for Fitz," Coulson said.

"Maybe." I reached down and grabbed the gun, tossing it. "But you're not going to let him die here either."

"Fitz is a smart guy. He'll find his way back."

"He'll be dead within the hour," Ward got to his knees. The three of us were just waiting for him to step out of line. "The creature who lives here can smell blood. Fitz is bleeding." He smiled, borderline laughing. I dropped the gun to my side and then brought my foot straight up, hitting him in the jaw. He flew back onto the sand.

"So are you," Coulson smirked. "Now get up. You're going to lead the way." Ward spit blood onto the sand, glaring up at me. When he didn't get to his feet, Frank walked up to him and grabbed him. He jerked him to his feet and then wiped him around to tie his hands. Ward looked over his shoulder at him, then to me.

"Desperate times?" he asked.

"Shut up," I said, aiming my gun at his chest. Frank finished and then shoved him forward. Ward stumbled, nearly biffing it. He glanced over his shoulder at us, taking a few steps. "Move," Frank said. Ward faced forward and started walking. The storm still ragged on around us, but it wasn't long until that ended. The wind had almost stopped, and we were back to everything looking the same.

We traveled in silence. Something I don't usually like…that is, until Ward was the one who broke the silence. "I saw something terrible today," he said. "And, when I saw 'terrible', I mean ancient and powerful. It's changed how I see things. I never believed I was worth anything…"

"And there's a reason for that," I said.

"That what I said or did had any meaning," he continued. I rolled my eyes. "Maybe that's why I'm a spy. Or why I agreed to come here."

"If you're trying to talk us out of this," Coulson said, "you can save your breath."

"I'm not looking for mercy or absolution. I just want you to know," Ward wiped around and we all yanked our guns up and pointed them at his chest. "I've been where you are right now. All of you. Filled with rage, wanting revenge… I chose Hydra for petty, personal, selfish reasons. For a father figure, for vengeance…for closure. But what I saw today gave my life meaning.

"For the first time ever, I have a sense of satisfaction that I never experienced when I was seeking revenge."

He's lost his mind. A gunshot rang out and Ward slightly twisted to the left. Coulson had shot him in the right arm. "I gotta say…feels pretty satisfying to me."

"Turn around," Frank said, "and keep walking."

Ward looked at him, then back at Coulson. "You know, everyone had this place wrong. It isn't death. It's a new beginning. Malick was right. This was all meant to be. And the fact that you followed me here, that we're all in this together, that just confirms the fact that I'm a part of a grand plan."

"What do you know," I tried to sound surprised, like some teenager. "Me, too." Then I turned serious. "Mine is putting you in the ground."

"Ye of little faith."

"You know what I have faith in? This gun," I shook the one I was holding, "and the way its bullets will pierce through your flesh. Now move…before I show you _my_ grand plan." He gave me a stupid smirk. Like he was somehow better. Like he somehow might actually feel sorry for me that I don't see what he does. You know what I see? A crazy man whose been wandering the desert too long.

Frank walked up to him and physically turned him around, then jammed the muzzle of his gun into his back, shoving him forward. Then we began walking again. Ward leading the way. Something I was not fond of. We walked for another eternity, and then some. Frank stayed closets to Ward, Coulson and I pulling up the rear. I sighed, my body not liking all of this.

"Hold up," Frank said, and we all stopped. He raised his rifle, looking through the scope. He lowered it a minute later. "They're over there," jutting his chin that direction. There was a larger open plain in front of us.

"How long before that portal opens?" Coulson asked.

"There's a timer on my watch," Ward said, way too happy to tell us. Frank kept his gun on Ward and I walked toward him. I stood behind Ward and reached down to his hands. I grabbed the watch quickly, ripping it off of him. I stepped back with Coulson and we looked at the time. Thirteen minutes and thirty seconds. Great.

"We need to go," I said, and Frank prodded Ward forward. We moved as fast as we could, following their footsteps. A few minutes later, we rounded a corner and came to a ledge. It dropped off into another open plain. But that wasn't what caught my eye. Fitz was on the ground, Will (the main reason why everyone wanted to come back to this stupid planet, in the first place) was standing over him holding a small boulder above his head.

I saw Frank's muzzle light up seconds before Will dropped. Then something shoved me from behind and I toppled forward, tumbling down the embankment. I came to a rest on my stomach. I sighed and looked up from where I fell. Coulson and Frank were fighting Ward. I glanced at Fitz and then back at them.

Then I did a double take toward Fitz. Will had not only gotten back up but was now walking away. I quickly found my gun and got to my feet. Fitz shot Will in the back and he didn't stop. That's when I saw a slight shimmer on the ground ahead. The portal.

That's not Will. And it's trying to get back to our world. Fitz pulled the trigger again and again. I walked up behind Fitz and began emptying my clip into Will. At the first shot, Fitz ducked and looked behind him. He saw me and then turned back to Will, firing his gun into him. Will's body finally dropped to the ground.

I sighed and reloaded, turning around. Frank was now at the base of the hill where I landed, looking beat up but okay. Coulson wrestled with Ward until he managed to deck him. Ward hit the ground and then Coulson stood over top of him. I turned to look at the portal, horrified by what I saw. Will was standing.

"Uh…Fitz?"

He spun around and saw Will. He then dropped the gun and reached into a back on the ground. He pulled out a white flare gun and aimed it at Will. He pulled the trigger and I watched as the flame struck Will in the back. He almost instantly caught on fire. He dropped to his knees and then the ground, his body being consumed by the fire.

"Coulson!" Fitz turned to face him. "The portal's closing! Leaving him! Let's go!" Coulson stood over Ward, indecision on his face. Frank ran up to us, glancing at the portal. "Now! We have to go!"

"Coulson, come on!" I yelled. He looked at us, then at Ward. Coulson stepped over Ward and began running down the hill to us. Fitz smiled and ran for the portal. I stayed and with Frank for Coulson. He was half way down the hill when Ward managed to stand, and in the blink of any eye…I raised my gun.


	2. Now You're Mine

**Alison's POV**  
(bellamysgirl)

Bullets were loaded into the front of the bar with no end in sight, splinters of wood and shards of glass springing up every which way in a haze of dust. Right now, the only thing I'm worried about is if any of it turns sideways and sprays the rest of us in this gin joint. I know Misty's fine, probably hunkered down behind Luke. But the rest of us aren't. There was a second of pause in the bullets, and Luke hefted Misty out from behind the bar.

They dove left down a hallway right as the bullets started to follow them into the back kitchen. Thankfully, they went to the right around a corner before any of the bullets could actually hit them. The only injury I have to worry about is the gunshot wound on Misty's right arm. And my arms are all tied up. Well, metaphorically. Two of Diamondback's goons held onto me tightly through the whole ordeal, keeping me at bay.

The bullets stopped a second after Luke and Misty disappeared. A part of me was put at ease. But the rest of me knew that I needed to get back there or Misty was going to lose her arm. I side-glanced up and to the right. _Does anyone even know how to hire good goons anymore?_ These yahoos weren't even paying attention to me. I inwardly sighed. _Here we go_.

With the loose grip and unsuspecting idiots, I was able to hike my elbow up enough to ram it right into the goon on my right side's face. And, while he writhed away in pain like a little girl, I turned and sent my heel into the temple of the goon on the left. I heard shouting, but I didn't stop to see who it was. I bolted. Down the hallway, through the kitchen, toward the back. My heart was thumping in my ears.

 _Come on, Alison, focus_. My eyes scanned the kitchen. They stopped on a door at the back of the kitchen. A basement. Or a pantry. Either way, it'd make a great place to hide a six foot tall superman. I ran straight to it and yanked it open. Sure enough, Misty was shrunken against the wall and Luke was standing close by. He looked ready to deck me, but he sighed with relief.

"Alison," he breathed, turning more toward me. "You gotta start stomping or something." I quickly started in, making sure to close the door behind me. As I hit the bottom of the stairs, he started toward me. "Like _that_ would help," I rolled my eyes, almost scoffing at his statement. He held out his arms a second before I stepped into them. The hug was quick, short lived. There was no time to stand around being affectionate.

People's lives were on the line. But it was a nice reassurance that we're both still here. I stepped back and went straight to Misty, crouching beside her. She held a cloth of some sort to the wound on her arm, but it was bleeding through. I tisked. "Have I taught you nothing?" I tossed the admonishment over my shoulder. "Stick to being bulletproof alright? Let me handle what happens _after_ you get shot."

Luke huffed an airy chuckle. "Sure thing, boss."

I sighed and looked up at Misty. Her features looked worn, tired. She wouldn't last much longer if I didn't stop the bleeding. "I think this thing hit an artery, so I'm gonna need some help," I told her. "Do you have anything on you that could be used to tie something?" She looked at me like I was crazy a split second, but then her expression changed to one of realization.

Her hand went for her pocket. "I- I have floss, in my pocket," she replied, quickly. I leaned over and shoved my hand in her pocket, beating her to it, and pulled out the small square of dental floss. Like, seriously? Who keeps floss on hand? Apparently her. I flipped open the cap and started pulling. "Okay, I need you to move that cloth on my mark," I said, before biting off the string.

"What are you gonna do?" Luke asked, off over my shoulder somewhere.

"I have to cut off the blood's exit. So, in simple terms, I'm going to tie the artery off with the floss," I answered, moving closer to Misty's arm, readying myself. I heard a noise over my shoulder that sounded indecisive and uncertain of the course of action, and I scoffed. "Please, child, I can do this in my sleep. Read it and weep."

My eyes shifted up to Misty, "Now."

She moved her hand and the cloth underneath it and I quickly slid my index finger and thumb into the hole. She squirmed a little, crying out. It only prompted me to work faster. I got hold of the artery—that slippery sucker—and rounded the dental floss, wrapping it around it a couple times before trying to actually tie it. Misty looked to be holding back a scream. And, for a second, I felt bad.

Then I remembered what she did to me at the precinct, and I didn't feel so bad anymore. My fingers moved quickly to tighten the floss and then slid out. Misty exhaled, relaxing into the wall, breathing heavily. I grabbed her hand and the cloth, placing both over the wound. "Keep pressure on this," I instructed. "Got it?"

She nodded limply, not in the mood. "Got it."

"How do you know how to do that?" Luke asked, sounding mortified.

I twisted on my ankles to see him over my shoulder. "It's basic first aid. I learned this when I was in diapers."

"You scare me sometimes, Alison," Luke said, holding up a finger lightly. He turned and walked over to the stares, trying to listen to what was going on. There were still other hostages up there. I briefly wondered what was going on as well, but I shook the thoughts from my head. I have to focus.

Luke sighed heavily. "I have to go back out there. There are still hostages, and Diamondback can't get away with this—not again," he said, turning back toward us. I stood and turned toward him fully, keeping my arms far enough from my clothes so that the blood on my fingers didn't smear on my pants. "What about the Judas bullets?" I inquired. "He'll shoot as soon as your absurdly shiny head is visible."

"Alison…I've gotta go," he resigned, determined.

" _Balls_ ," I mumbled, under my breath. Then, louder, I said, "Fine…go." He nodded and quickly disappeared up the steps. Once he was out of sight, I slid down the brick wall to sit semi-beside Misty, exhaling deeply. This whole night has been a whirlwind. Things just keep happening too fast. "I'm sorry," Misty said, startling me a bit.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing up at her skeptically. "What decent-human-being bug bit _your_ butt?"

"I mean it. I'm truly sorry. What I did…what I said, was completely uncalled for," she finished, ignoring my words. I sighed and dropped my head back against the wall. _You mean how you first called me crazy, then upgraded to calling me a murderer worshipper—in so many words—and then added insult to injury by slamming me into a wall?_ Well, at least I got to hit her across the face.

I groaned, shaking my head. "I'm _not_ hugging you."

"I don't want you to hug me," she shook her head in agreement. I leaned back, listening. I really wish I had Matt's super powers right about now. I'd know exactly what was going on up there. But, then again, I wouldn't be able to see. Maybe I'll just stick to being powerless? Yeah, good plan. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and I looked up at Misty. She was fading, sliding left.

I quickly moved up to my knees. I clamped my hand down on hers, the one holding her blood inside her body, and shook her shoulder with the other. "Misty? Misty, wake up, you incredible pain in my-!"

"Relax…" she said, groggily, sitting up just slightly. "I'm still here."

"You need to stay awake, alright? You can still make it out of this."

"Yeah, but I'll lose my arm."

I shook my head, "You don't know that."

"Just talk, Fletcher. Annoy me so badly I can't possibly sleep—I know you're dying to."

I sighed heavily. Okay, fine. You wanna hear my voice? _Prepare to wish you'd never said that, Misty_. "You know the son you criticized me for not being with? He's gonna be twelve soon. Had him when I was nineteen. That kid's so much stronger than me and he's not even half my size," I went on, leaning back on my legs. "All this? The aiding 'criminals', as you call it? I do it for him. So that he's safe."

She adjusted her position against the wall with a mild groan. "How'd you get roped into all this, anyway?"

"Good question. And the answer is less than good. Right place at the right time, I guess. All humans bleed."

" _That's_ not ominous."

"Come on, Detective, you know exactly how I got my start. You don't read the paper?"

"I'm never gonna win with you, am I?" It was lighthearted, meant to be something to lift the weight off the mood. I shook my head, tilting it a little, giving her a small smirk. "Nope," I replied, lightly. "Not anytime soon, anyway. I'm not in the business of giving out information on close friends."

"Close friends, huh? You just have your nose in everything in this city, don't you?"

I dropped back onto my butt, trying to get the blood pumping through my legs again. They'd almost gone completely numb I was sitting on them so long. "Not everything. Just most of it," I smiled. She chuckled a little, leaning her head back into the wall. "Perks of being a reporter, I guess," she mused.

"Yep."

This situation could go a couple ways. None are really _good_. One, Diamondback kills Luke and eventually finds us in here and does the same. Two, the police get off their butts and do their jobs, coming in here and clearing the scene. But, in that scenario, Luke would most likely be caught in the crossfire and arrested. Three, Luke actually kicks the living daylights out of Diamondback, thus saving the day, and clears his name.

Which one is more likely? Probably either one or two. I sighed heavily and pulled myself up to stand. "Bored already?" Misty asked, sarcastically rhetoric. I walked in a straight line across the room to the opposite wall and stood facing it, trying to hear something. Not knowing what was going on was making my skin crawl. Any moment someone could-

The door at the top of the steps whipped open, causing the hinges to scream in protest, and I whirled to face Misty. She locked eyes with me and I held a finger up to my lips. Whatever ding-dong opened the door started down the steps, hitting the bottom in seconds. "Well, well, well." That voice. I recognize that voice. Then it hit me. _Shades_. "Look what the cat dragged in."

He stepped around the slice of wall covering my view from the stairs, only seeing Misty. I looked down. A few scattered pieces of wood and a box of nails lay strewn about the floor. I carefully plucked a two-by-four off the cement floor and inched my way toward Shade's back. He was talking, saying something demeaning and triumphant. But I didn't listen.

I edged close enough, raised the board, and whacked him across the back of the head with it.

It made a hollow _thunk!_ and he dropped like a veal, thudding to the floor. I let the board clatter to the floor along with him and I straightened my shirt with a pointed huff. "That's how we do it in the Kitchen!" I shot, at his still, unmoving form, feeling proud of myself. I slammed my foot on his black lenses, laying inches from him, crushing them. "Not so fresh now, are ya, _tightwad_?"

I only looked up at the sound of Misty laughing—a very, very odd sound ringing in my ears. She looked like a doped up, cackling lunatic from my position. Probably just the lighting. That, or the loss of blood. Could be both. "Where'd you learn _that_ move?" she asked, humorously. "Watching old karate movies?"

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. "Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. You haven't seen the half of it."

There was something serious that flashed across her features, something darker than her cackling laugh. She nodded slowly in a suddenly overly-sobered fashion. "I believe it," she commented, in agreeance. I grabbed the pouch of dental floss off the floor and knelt beside _Shades_ —seriously, what kind of name is that?—then got to work. I pinned his arms at his back and used the floss as rope.

I know, it won't hold too extremely well. But I wrapped it too many times to count and it was all I had, so that at least it gave Misty an illusion of safety from this nutjob. A sound upstairs caught my attention and I paused, looking up. There were echoes of mixed shouts filtering in through the floor.

" _Get down!"  
"Hands up!"  
"Stay down!"  
"Don't make me shoot you!"_

The police. Wonderful. And they've either got Diamondback or Luke. _How much you wanna bet that idiot got himself arrested?_ I sighed and stood, hurrying over to Misty. "Come on, let's get you outta here, yeah?" I said, bending and pulling her uninjured arm around my shoulders. I stood back up, hefting her with me, and she let me hold up most of her weight as we shuffled for the stairs. We took them one at a time.

It was a process, but I lugged her up to the ground floor and through the kitchen, toward the main room of the club. Sure enough, the police were putting cuffs on Luke center room. A couple cops aimed their guns on us as soon as we were in the room, but I grabbed Misty's badge off her belt and held it up. "Whoa, easy! We're hostages," I called. "She's been shot."

They lowered their guns and hollered for EMTs.

The cops that were available came over and took Misty from me, another asking me if I had any injuries. But I shook my head, unable to look away from Luke, being hauled outside at gun point. And, thanks to recent events, the cops now have Judas bullets. _Isn't it just grand?_ Ugh. I'm starting to sound like Dani. I took a deep breath and followed the direction of traffic through the main doors of the club, out to the sidewalk.

I went to the first cop I saw and told him about the guy I had tied up in the basement. They went to go check it out while the other cops on scene were loading Luke into the back of the police transport van. I loosely crossed my arms, watching. Great. Could this retched trip to Harlem get any worse? I have to constantly remind myself to stop jinxing everything with my negative narration. It's got to get better.

Right? Because that's what happens. _Things get bad because they're going to get better real soon_. At least, that's what my dad used to tell me. He even told me that the day he died, on a voicemail message. So, yeah, things have to get better. I just hope I don't have to spend any more time with Misty than needed to fix all this garbage.


	3. Luke Cage (Revised)

**Alison's POV**  
(bellamysgirl)

The police kept me for most of what was left of the night. I only got out just after daybreak. News of Luke Cage escaping police custody spread like wildfire throughout Harlem. So I'd guessed that he was out there somewhere, looking for Diamondback. But he obviously didn't want to include me seeing as I was on my way back to the last place I remember leaving my car, instead of helping him right now.

I sighed, fishing for my car keys in my pocket. Inconsequently, never look down when you're walking in New York City, because I've learned you only end up getting literally yanked into doing something you thought you'd never do. Like me, right now. A grip on my arm suddenly jerked me to the left, pulling me into a side street alleyway. My instinct was to slap whoever it was, and I did.

But when I was finally spun around—after slapping him of course—I found it was Luke that snatched me from the street. I tilted my head a ' _really?'_ expression and he looked extremely guilty, but a small smile pulled at his lips. "Sorry, I don't have your phone number," he apologized. Then he paused, thinking. "Or a phone…"

I sighed, smiling a little. "Okay, I get it. What's the sitch?"

"I need to find Diamondback, but I'm just hitting dead ends," he explained, before twisting to check the street. Then he turned back to me with a heavy sigh. "And I was hoping you might have some street rats with their ears to the ground?"

"You think I know someone evil enough—or stupid enough—to be working with a monster like _Diamondback_?" I folded my arms, raising my eyebrow sternly. Luke paused and his expression dropped just slightly, eyeing me. He was obviously trying to figure out if I was joking, but leaning towards me being serious. Then I dropped my arms and nodded, smiling again. "Yeah, I know a guy."

"Know where he is?" he asked, a full smile creeping onto his face.

"He should be around here somewhere. Last time I saw him wasn't that great, so he might not want to talk to me, but he's just enough weasel to turn on Diamondback," I nodded.

He nodded in return, checking the street again. "Good. Let's get moving. Cops are crawling all over the streets." Right, police patrols. I grabbed his wrist and started further into the alley, and he followed behind, pulling his hand up further to slide into mine fully. I may not have been to Harlem many times over my lifetime. But there are certain places all criminals will be.

Luke helped navigate, and together we found the snitch.

He was trying to sell guns out of his trunk again, in some shady-looking lot of junker cars and junk heaps. "Turk," I called, strolling up. He turned around and paused, his face dropping almost instantly upon seeing me. I walked to him and stood a foot in front of him, Luke coming to stand just behind me and to the left. "Well, if it isn't New York's own Angela Lansbury," Turk quipped, his shoulders dropping.

I smirked at the comment. "We need to have a chat."

"So what can I do for the infamous Mrs. Punisher?" Turk asked, sarcastically, holding out his arms in a gesture. Then he looked at Luke, his face scrunching up. "And you're new boyfriend?"

"Diamondback. Where is he?" Luke asked, as I slid my hands in my pockets. Turk chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head, like he couldn't possibly know anything about it—when actually he could probably give me the guy's social security number if I pushed him for it. "Man, _I_ don't know-"

Luke took a step forward, and Turk visibly swallowed. "Where?" Luke pressed. Turk's eyes shifted to me and my eyebrows rose expectantly. He sighed heavily. "Fine…alright, he's in a warehouse, okay?" he confessed. Luke grabbed Turk's jacket collar and Turk squirmed. "What- hey- Alison, come on. You're not gonna let him treat your boy like that, are ya?"

I shook my head. "Uh-uh, don't look at me. You got yourself into this. We need an address, Turk."

"Alright, fine- fine! I'll write it down. _Sheesh_." Luke let go of Turk and took a step back, and Turk shook his head, mumbling something under his breath I couldn't quite make out. I rolled my eyes. He acts like he's a normal dude that's just like everybody else. That he doesn't sell illegal weapons to criminals. That he doesn't help terrorists, mobs, and mafias get street intel to further their evil plots.

That he's the hero of not only this story, but _every_ story. Turk wrote the address on a note in my cell phone and I showed it to Luke. "Is that a real place?" I asked him. Turk tilted his head in a ' _really?'_ way, just like I'd done to Luke not a half an hour earlier. "Seriously?" he all but scoffed.

"Like I'm gonna trust _you_ on this," I shot back.

"It's real," Luke confirmed, with a sigh.

"Great, let's go." Luke started walking and I followed a few steps behind. But I stopped just a few yards away at the sound of my name. I turned, raising an eyebrow. I thrusted my arms out at my sides to urge him to talk fast. Turk visibly sighed heavily. "Be safe while you're runnin' around saving the world, alright?" he said, his expression tired.

"I will." I held up my thumb a second then turned and hurried after Luke. He didn't get too far, but I did have to jog for a few long strides to catch up. Seeing as I had no real idea where I was going in this joint, Luke lead the way to the warehouse Turk directed us to in the note. It wasn't too far, though, thankfully. I was _not_ in mood to trapes half way across Harlem. Luke easily broke whatever lock was on the door and rolled it open.

I stayed beside the doorway, waiting for Luke to give the go-ahead for going in, too. He glanced around through the now open doorway and paused. "You're good," he signaled. I slid along the building and stepped into the doorway, unearthing my gun from my belt. I finally got the thing back from the cops. This is my third gun, and this time I got papers, so they couldn't exactly charge me for having it.

I kept it ready, my finger just waiting to slide into the trigger guard, as I took slow steps inside. My eyes scanned the wide and open space, Luke a few feet to my left doing the same. It appeared empty at first glance. But a few more steps in, and I could see bodies strewn about the floor of the warehouse. "Uh…Luke?" I glanced left.

He suddenly paused looking straight forward, going rigid. Then he sprung into action. "Get out, now!" He grabbed my arm, but I didn't need much prodding to start running. We made it to just less than a foot outside the building before a wave of heat erupted behind me and something hard slammed into my side, tackling me to the ground. Arms encircled me just before heat did the same. I could see flames through the corners of my eyes and I squeezed them shut, turning into Luke's chest.

It lasted for maybe two minutes before it faded enough for me to look around. The adrenaline was causing my chest to heave for a breath, and I twisted to look over Luke's shoulder. He twisted to see as well. The whole warehouse was burning, in pieces. I looked up at Luke and he turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine. I quickly started nodding, "That was good thinking." His eyes shifted down and slightly to the right.

Then I felt a stinging on my left arm as his hand touched the area and my eyes shot down. There was a strip of seared flesh along my left upper arm, right through my jacket—that was still smoldering. That thought caught my attention and I turned back to Luke, my eyes scanning his hoodie. I could see just enough to tell that the better part of the back of it was toast. "Remind me never to take you to a warehouse," Luke joked, lightly.

"Bad timing?" I squinted with a half-smile, sarcastically, and he laughed.

"Come on. We need to move." He stood and offered me his hand, and I took it, him pulling me to my feet with ease. I hissed and looked at my burned arm once more. It really wasn't good but it wasn't too bad considering. I just wondered how on earth I was supposed to explain this to Matt when I got back to Hell's Kitchen. Ugh.

I turned back to Luke and my eyes rounded. "Um, Luke, your jacket's on fire."

"What-?" He twisted, then tore off what was left of his hoodie and tossed it on the ground. Small flames were burning up the remnants where he dropped it. He sighed heavily, mildly annoyed, and I nudged his arm. "Eh, don't worry. I'll get you another one," I promised. "This one won't burn so easily."

He eyed me a second, curiously. "Yeah? How are you gonna do that?"

I shrugged lightly, with a closed-mouthed smile. "I know a guy," I said, just as Luke nodded, saying _you know a guy_ in unison.

Luke and I headed back to where I thought I'd left my car. It took a while to get there. Not because of distance, but because he couldn't really show his face too much on the streets, so we took the alleys. And that was quite a bit longer than it should've been. But it was nice. The conversation was easy, light. Mostly about what life is like in Hell's Kitchen. We'd joked about a comparison, trying to figure out which one was worse, Hell or Harlem.

We settled on Harlem—at least for the time being. Until Diamondback and all the psychos like him are off the streets, it's a pretty crummy place around here. No one is safe anymore. No one. I guess that's why _I'm_ here, helping people like Luke. "So, if Diamondback ditched his base of ops," I said, walking an extra stride to keep up with Luke on the sidewalk. "He must be pretty close to his endgame."

"He's gotta have somethin' up his sleeve," Luke agreed, visibly thinking. We walked for a few paces before he continued, sighing. "I don't know…maybe you should get outta here? You know, while you still can? I got this feeling things are gonna get bad real fast. You've got a boy at home, remember?"

I inhaled. "I remember. I also remember that if you have no one in your corner, you're gonna get nowhere. I can still help."

"You just _don't_ give up, do you?" He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not on you," I agreed, shaking my head.

He glanced at me, exhaling. "Alright, fine. Stay in harm's way and be stubborn. But you gotta promise me something. If it looks like I'm gonna lose this…you get your boy, get your things, and get out of New York. Diamondback's not gonna stop with me—or with Harlem. He'll take the whole city if he can. And you don't deserve to get caught up in that."

"Is this your way of flirting with me?" We ducked into an alley as I said the words, giving Luke the perfect opportunity to look back at me, giving me an expression I couldn't quite pin down to one emotion. I smiled, stepping off the sidewalk, and fell back into step with him. "And if it was?" he questioned, the corners of his lips curving up.

I looked up at him. It was hard to do sometimes, given how tall that man was. Like, seriously, I was some kind of elf standing next to him. I focused my eyes back on the alleyway in front of us, humming a little. "Then…I'd have to say I promise," I reasoned, lightly. "But, Luke…there are a lot of things you don't know about me-"

"Come on, Alison. You're an open book."

I smirked, looking up at him again. "Oh, really? What's my favorite thing in the whole world?"

"Vanilla Chai Lattes—but if we were talking about people it'd be your son," he answered, easily.

"Favorite color? Birthplace?"

"Brown and Rochester." I sighed heavily, trying to think of something I probably hadn't already spewed. But he beat me to words, surprising me with his next ones. "Look…I get it. You poured your heart into somebody and it almost worked out, but it didn't. I read the papers. Specifically, I read the Bulletin articles with your byline. I know what happened."

"No," I shook my head. "You really don't."

"So tell me." He stopped, causing me to stop, and turned to face me. I sighed, but he didn't seem to waver. I rolled my eyes, sliding my hands into my pockets, only reminding myself of the singed skin on my upper arm. "It's not that simple. It didn't just…notwork out. He _died_ ," I explained, swallowing hard. "In my arms. I don't want you to be the rebound guy—you deserve better than that."

He was quiet a moment, looking left, out at the street. Then his eyes shifted back to mine, "What if I want _that_ , as long I have _you_?" My eyes softened, my head tilting a little. And it hit me hard. _He was serious_. The determination in his eyes, in his voice—there was no denying that. I opened my mouth to speak. "Luke…I-"

My cell phone cut me off, ringing in my pocket. I sighed heavily and dug the stupid thing out, holding it up to my ear, giving a frustrated, "Hello?"

" _It's Detective Knight, you got a minute?_ "

My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. Luke sighed and walked away a few steps, turning his back to me, and I inwardly cursed out Misty for having the worst timing on this whole stupid planet. I inhaled deeply, through my nose. "Sure, _why_ not?" I threw the words at the phone but she didn't seem to notice.

" _Look, I just wanted to…thank you for saving my life last night. After all I did I figured you'd be the last person to help me. But you came through_ ," she said, her tone sincere—as far as I could tell. " _I want you to know I owe you. Anytime you need a favor, just call me. Got it, Fletcher?_ "

"Yeah…I got it," I nodded, though she couldn't see it.

" _Good. And don't you forget it_."

"Trust me, I won't. How's your arm?"

" _Great, thanks to you_."

"Keep it that way."

I hung up the phone and slid it back into my pocket, exhaling. Something in my arm twinged and I looked down. The charred flesh was like chapped lips. It was starting to split in a thin line where a blister used to be, just thicker than a paper cut, causing it to bleed lightly. The pain was only worsening by the second. I'd never had too much experience with burns—especially on myself—but I knew I had stuff for it in my med bag, in my car.

Getting there was the only problem. Because, before that unnecessary phone call from Misty, I was in a highly undesirable position. I glanced up. Luke was walking back toward me from the street as I did. I inhaled sharply. _Come on, Alison. Don't do this to yourself_. He was basically in tatters from the waste up after the explosion fried most of his clothing. _Focus, you idiot_.

I swallowed. "Apparently I'm bleeding."

"Your car's just a couple blocks up. Shouldn't take long to get there," he assured, stopping a foot or two from me. I nodded slowly, my eyes scrutinizing his face. Trying to gauge what kind of mood he was in or even what he was thinking after our interrupted discussion was next to impossible. Finally, I sighed, dropping my shoulders, "Luke, I don't wanna do this. I just…I need time to think about it."

"Take all the time you need for that," he agreed, evenly, like he had no problems with it to begin with—which I inwardly cursed myself for not seeing. Then he pointed in a gesture toward my arm. "But, right now I think _that_ needs more attention."

I nodded once. "Right. To the car."

"This way."

It's not something that's been much on my mind, love. I lost that along with Frank. Something deep inside me supposed that maybe there was a glimmer of a chance that my hallucination was real and he was alive out there somewhere, doing what Punishers do. And maybe he's thinking about me because I was thinking about him. The ointment I had in my med bag stung as I gently spread it across the burn.

It was a _really_ nice thought. But the passing empty days were only proving that's all it was—a thought. I stifled an audible wince and grabbed a gauze pad from my kit. To the best of my abilities, I peeled open the package around it and placed the pad atop the burn, then reached for the wrap. As I unraveled a few inches to start, my mind wandered suddenly, without my consent. My eyes were stuck on a spot as I zoned out for a moment.

" _Honestly, Frank, I can do it myself," I almost huffed, frustrated with my trembling hands. The needle aimed for my skin but teetered and shook, always veering off course. Frank exhaled through his nose with a small scoffing sound that passed through his lips. "Right. Look, just- put that down before you hurt yourself, alright?" he said, easing the needle and thread from my fingers._

 _I sighed heavily in annoyance, sitting back an inch. After what happened, after…after Karen, I just couldn't make any part of my body move right. And this stupid gash on my leg was only bleeding further without any hint of stopping sometime soon. So Frank sat on the edge of the couch beside me, lifting the injured leg I had propped up there to be placed across his lap once he was down._

 _He exhaled. "You don't always have to fix yourself, you know."_

" _I know. I just…prefer it."_

 _The needle pricked through my skin and I hissed, gripping the armrest of the torn up couch. I tried to relax my shoulders as the thread pulled through. This sensation was nothing new to me, thanks to the events of late. But it still hurt way more than it should. I inhaled, "Does this mean I have to start calling you Doctor Castle? Because I think that name's already taken."_

" _Frank is fine."_

" _I'm being sarcastic."_

" _I know."_

 _I sighed heavily, tipping my head back to look at the ceiling. Another prickle of the needle burned my skin and I gritted my teeth, holding—almost—perfectly still this time. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I was a bit surprised by his words, given the mood I'd thrown us into clear back at the shed in the woods. It had tainted the drive back to the Café, as well._

 _My first thought was no. No, I don't want to talk about how one of the only people that was left that supported pretty much all my decisions thus far is now dead. The first one was Mary. And now it was Karen. Both supported me, both helped me, both were my friends—and both are dead. And I couldn't save either of them. I exhaled through my nose. "What is there to talk about?" I asked, tiredly._

" _She was your friend and she died right in front of you. I know you, Alison. You're either being quiet right now because you need to talk about it—but don't want to—or you're about to start crying," he answered, calmly, starting another stitch. I lifted my head to look at him. Yeah, that was pretty much spot on. But I couldn't even tell which one I was leaning toward. Probably the second option._

 _After a moment of me not answering, he added, "So which is it?" I bit my lower lip to keep myself from speaking. Okay, yeah, definitely the second option. The lump in my throat never really went away. It was just buried from the spite I threw in Frank's face earlier. And now it was starting to bubble back up. But I inhaled a deep breath to hold it in before answering. "Um…do I have to pick one?"_

" _Yes."_

 _I groaned. "Number two, then."_

 _Frank had put gauze and wrapping on the now completely sewn shut gash. I hadn't even noticed when he'd stopped sewing. He'd just clipped off the wrapping when I'd finally picked an option. Once he did, I slid my leg back and let it rest on the floor rather than his lap, sitting up as I did. "Alison," he sighed. "Look at me."_

" _Don't," I shook my head, keeping my eyes on my knees._

" _Look at me, Alison."_

 _I squeezed my eyes shut. A sliver of water slipped from my right eye, trailing heat down my cheek and off my chin as I did. I forced my eyes to reopen and I shifted them up to meet Frank's. Everything about his features was softened. I almost startled from my jitters as his hand slid onto my cheek, his thumb swiping the trail of water from my skin. "It's okay," his voice was just above a whisper._

" _Please…please don't say that- don't give me that face," I gave a half-hearted shake of my head. "Because I'm just gonna start…crying even worse and- great, it's working, are you happy now?"_

 _Tears had forced their way up and out mid-sentence, not even giving me a chance to tell them no before they assaulted my cheeks. Frank slid his arms around me. "Come here," he said, and I leaned into his chest without a fight._

A foreign voice brought a steering wheel into view. And suddenly I remembered I was doing something, something important. I just couldn't remember what exactly was important. I glanced down at a stinging in my arm. Right. I was burned. "You okay?" Luke's voice startled me. I'd forgotten he was even in the passenger seat. I quickly looked up, nodding, trying to wave it off.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "I just remembered I was supposed to do something. Nothing important." _Not as important as the pain it left in my chest._

 **Dani's POV  
(Nightwing27th)**

I sighed, knocking on the door to the old farm house. I never really pictured Clint as a country guy. Until he moved to the country. Now it's just sad. The city boy trying to be country. I heard his kids behind the door and smiled. I turned to the side and looked and the hulking mass beside me. He looked unsure. This is the first time I'm bringing him here, and the first time he's meeting Clint.

I turned back to the door and smiled. It finally opened, Clint greeting us. He was holding Lizzie. I smiled and instantly took her from his arms. "Oh, I see how it is," he said as I propped her on my hip. "She was my best friend two minutes ago."

"Don't worry," I sighed. "You'll get over it." He smiled and I turned my attention to Lizzie. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I leaned into her hug. "Clint, this is-"

"Frank Castle," he finished. I saw Frank straighten out of the corner of my eye. "I watch the news."

"From New York?" I asked, unbelieving.

He shrugged. "Someone's got to watch out for you." He turned to Frank and offered his hand. Frank hesitantly took it. "Clint Barton."

"Frank."

I glanced at him before looking at Clint, "here, is Alison's boyfriend." I didn't even have to look, I could feel Frank glaring at me. Clint looked baffled, speechless. It's a good look on him. "Alison?" he asked. "Like, our Alison? Like," he held up his hand to show a measure of height, about equal with his shoulders, "Alison?"

I smiled. "Yes, Dork. Now, let us in, it's freezing."

"Oh, yeah." He swung the door open and we walked inside. "Make yourselves at home." He led the way into the house. "Try not to trip on the toys." He turned to face us as his kids ran past. "Hey, get back here a sec." They protested but walked over anyway. They came up to me and I gave them each side hugs with my free arm. "These are my kids- well, two of them: Cooper and Lila."

They both looked up at Frank expectantly, but he just gave them a cold stare. I rolled my eyes, sure to sigh loud enough for Frank to hear my annoyance. "Go on, you two," I said. They thanked me for relieving them and then ran off. I looked at Clint. "Where's Nate?"

He smiled. "You better not let Laura hear you call him that." He turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Ugh, you two," I sighed, following quickly. "What is wrong with nicknames?" It was rhetorical, which is good because no one was planning on answering me. I entered the kitchen and was greeted with Laura's smile. She was cooking something with Nate in a baby bouncer, sound asleep on the kitchen counter. He's still very much hot off the press. He's only roughly three months old.

"Dani!" Laura said, walking up to me arms stretched. "I didn't know you were coming!"

I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her hug. "Oh, really?" I glared at Clint deeper in the kitchen. "Clint's known for, like, five days now." She pulled away and turned to glare at Clint. He was stuffing his face with something he'd picked off of some dish.

"What?" he shrugged. We rolled our eyes and laughed. Laura's gaze shifted over my shoulder. I turned around and saw Frank walking in. He stopped not too far in the doorway, taking it all in. "Oh," Laura said. "I didn't know you'd have company, either. Which is fine-"

"Yeah, apparently there's a lot Clint DIDN'T tell you."

"Hey, I've been busy," he said.

"Doing what? You're retired," I said. He shrugged and smiled, putting something else in his mouth. Laura glanced at him before turning back to us. I bent down and put Lizzie on the ground. The weight was starting to get to me. I know It's not much, but technically I'm still supposed to be recovering.

"So," Laura said. "This your new boyfriend?" She had a look that told me she was joking.

"No, Alison's." I looked at Frank. "Maybe." I turned back. "Long story. But, this is Frank."

She instantly held her hand out to him. "Nice to meet you, I'm Laura."

Frank took her hand. He still seemed really unsure about all of this. Like when you bring a cat home for the first time. They'll enter the house and look around, but one wrong move and they're under the couch for a week. That's what this is like. And Frank's the cat. "Ma'am," he nodded. Laura slightly grinned at me before heading back over to the sink.

I tapped Frank's stomach with the back of my hand to get his attention. He looked down at me. "This," I pointed to the baby, "is Nate."

"Nathaniel," both Clint and Laura said at the same time.

"Oh, my gosh!" I rolled my eyes. "You two are crazy. I have rights."

"What rights?" Clint asked.

"The special auntie kind." I sat down at the island while Clint laughed. I pulled Lizzie up and sat her next to me. "Just like you have special rights with Lizzie."

"I'm the cousin."

"There, see? You have no rights." I shrugged a smirk. He laughed.

"So," Laura spoke up to break up the conversation and start a new one. She does it all the time. And I think you can see why. "Frank," she finished with the dishes and then dried her hands, turning to face him. "How do you know Dani?" I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked that way and saw Clint. He was shaking his head and slightly waving his hands. I inwardly scoffed.

He didn't tell her about Frank. Like, anything. He told her nothing. "Work," I chimed in before he could answer, looking down at Lizzie. I kept my head down while looking up at Frank. He was looking between me and Clint. I think he got the idea.

"Oh, really? What do you do?" She was purposely asking Frank the question. Clint went frantic again, creating his own wind current. She glanced that way and he quickly stopped. He smiled innocently, and then she turned back to Frank. She was looking at him expectantly.

"He's an avid hunter," I said. She looked slightly confused. "And, he's worked with S.H.I.E.L.D." She nodded.

"Okay. I see," she said. "It's classified."

"Something like that," Frank said. She looked at him and then nodded.

"Actually," I said, looking at Frank, "we need to go unpack." I hopped off the chair, talking Lizzie with me. I swung her onto my hip, making a beeline past Frank and out of the kitchen.

"Dinner's in an hour," she called. Great. This will be fun.


	4. The Mass Murderer

**Alison's POV**  
(bellamysgirl)

I exhaled through my nose on a hum. "I don't know what to say," Bobby Fish said, shrugging with a mildly sarcastic tone. I glanced at him. "Usually snakes are quite punctual." I cracked a small chuckle before moving my eyes back to the Barber Shop door. Mariah and that idiot Shades wanted to meet Luke here to _talk_ or some garbage. But there's no sign of either of them. Luke edge up beside me, turning halfway to see both me and the door.

"Sure you wanna be here for this?" he asked, sounding hopeful that I'd tuck tail and run.

My lips quirked up into a small smirk. "I'm sure."

Just then, Mariah and Shades stepped through the door to the shop. I could almost feel Luke tense beside me. Like he was expecting a fight. Who knows? He might just get one. There's no telling with these lunatics. They walked in slowly, cautiously, and stopped to stand a few feet from the three of us. "This place could use a clean up," Mariah commented, nonchalantly glancing around the room.

"What do you want?" Luke demanded, obviously not in the mood.

Honestly, neither was I. Mariah just gave a neat, clean closed-mouth smile. "I'm here to offer you a deal," she said. "I have everything you need to prove your innocence. And I do mean everything." Shades took that as an apparent cue and held up a file folder to show proof of its existence.

"No more running—from anyone. You'll be a free man," she continued, calmly.

I crossed my arms. "And? What do you get out of it?"

"It's not what I get, Alison. It's what Harlem gets," Shades said. I glared daggers at him. The next time my name comes out of his mouth will be the last. It sounds awful from him. It sounds bad. My eyes shifted down to the tile floor, sticking to the color as my mind seemed to be put on pause.

 _I paused, smiling a little. I don't even know why. It just felt like I needed to. "You know, my name is Alison," I cocked an eyebrow in a lighthearted expression and held out my left hand, the one not gripping the arm of his jacket. "Alison Fletcher." He didn't move for a moment. Then a small chuckle escaped him and I saw the faintest hints of anything remotely resembling a smile. He looked around a second before settling his eyes on me._

 _His hand encircled mine, holding on. "Frank Castle."_

" _Nice to meet you, Mr. Castle. Now- do you spell your name like the medieval architecture, or is there some fancy way of writing it?" At medieval architecture he was barking a laugh and shaking his head, looking elsewhere again. My comment was mostly sarcastic. But, if I was going to write his name in a story, I would need to spell it right. You can never be too careful. Right?_

 _Or maybe I'm the crazy one in this whole situation. Either way, I liked hearing him laugh. It was nice seeing him do something other than brood or act downright grumpy. "Something tells me medieval architecture is just fine," he replied, looking back at me, looking like he was fighting a smile. "The sun's up. Should probably get you home, huh?"_

 _I nodded. "Probably. Chase isn't doing so well, apparently." His eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, head tilting just slightly. Right. He knows I have a son, just not what that son's name is. I forgot. "Err, my son. You met him the other night when you shot my babysitter."_

 _It visibly clicked as he seemed to get it. "Yeah, I remember. Sorry about your house."_

" _It'll recover. Come on—I'm driving."_

My eyes quickly shifted back up as I drew in a deep breath. You can do this. You are not crying right here, right now, in front of these idiots. I'd missed a bit of conversation, but I quickly learned the gist. It seemed crazy. But it was just something this witch would propose. "So you want Luke to do your dirty work for you," I summarized, bluntly.

Mariah looked to me. "I want Harlem to be a safe place again-"

"Come on, lady, enough with the garbage," I let my arms fall to my sides, annoyed. I turned to Luke, and his eyes shifted up from the floor to meet mine. "You don't have to do this. You can still take him down your way, without her blackmail. It's your choice."

"I guess I don't have to ask you what side you're on?" he smiled a little, not really asking.

"This wouldn't just be helping me, or Harlem—it would be helping you," Mariah pressed, desperate for an answer now. "You could go back to a normal life, use your real name again. This would benefit everyone involved and you know it."

Yeah, maybe. But it would benefit her more. Either way it was Luke's decision and I did my best to hold back any spiteful comments. This wasn't my part of town. I don't get to call the shots. Luke looked to be thinking about it a moment. Then he finally spoke. "So…I take down Diamondback…" he looked to Mariah.

"And you get the file," Mariah promised, with a nod.

I scoffed, unable to hold it in any longer. "Tell me why I shouldn't just shoot you and save all of us the trouble."

"I'm with her," Bobby Fish said, gesturing toward me with a hand.

Luke sighed heavily. "I'll do it."

A sudden slamming sound caught all our attentions, and I quickly looked up, over Shades's shoulder. A small black canister had rolled in on the ground. "Grenade!" Luke shouted. It was every man for himself it seemed. But Luke slung an arm tightly around my middle and pulled me down with him as he crouched, putting himself in between me and the grenade. Then the canister exploded.

I could hear glass shattering after the ear-piercing boom. It took only a split second before footsteps echoed in, crunching on the newly shattered glass. Luke stood and I followed suit, unfolding myself. At the front of the shop was a black man in what looked like some kind of jump suit and a helmet.

It wasn't hard to recognize who it was. Diamondback. I immediately pulled out the gun in my belt and racked a bullet into the chamber, aiming it at his helmeted head. Bobby Fish made a scoffing sound. "What kind of Jean Paul Gaultier trash is this? What are you, some kind of pimp storm trooper?"

It was one of the first things he'd said through the whole discussion, and I would've laughed if it weren't for my splitting headache. Diamondback looked almost crazed. "No," he shook his head, wearing a devilish grin. "I'm the Angel of Death."

That's not ominous. "You look like a fool," Luke shot back.

"Luke," I lowered my gun and put a hand on his arm, not taking my eyes off Diamondback for fear I might miss when he goes all kamikaze and tries to kill us. "Smash." I already knew what was coming. So I turned, slid my gun away, and gestured for the others to follow as I dove for the back room. They did, filing in behind me. It only took a moment for grunts, groans, and thuds to filter in from the front.

I edged up beside the doorway and peered my head around the corner. It was just in time to see Diamondback chuck a chair at Luke. Luke ducked enough for it to miss him only by an inch, and the chair flew right through the front glass window, shattering what was left of it. I could hear the shocked shrieks of people on the street. I turned to the others. "We need to go," I nodded quickly.

"Out the back door," Bobby nodded back, starting to the right.

I followed right behind him, Mariah and Shades pulling up the rear. Bobby pushed through the back door and onto the street and we all stepped out behind him. But as I turned around, Mariah and Shades had somehow vanished in the alley beside the shop. I groaned. "Ah, come on."

A loud groan and a couple rhythmic hard thuds caught my attention and I bolted for the front of the shop. Bobby Fish was already there, along with what could've been all of Harlem on the sidewalk. Just as I skidded to a stop beside Bobby, I noticed Misty hurrying over. I nearly said something I would've regretted, but I held my tongue and she came to stand beside us. "What's going on?" she asked, mostly to me.

I looked at the Barber Shop. Luke hefted Diamondback up and into the ceiling, letting the idiot drop to the floor like a leaf. My stomach was in knots. But I knew Luke could take him. I've seen what Luke can do, the guy is practically indestructible. I sighed heavily, glancing at Misty a second. "Luke and Diamondback," I replied. And that seemed to be all the information she needed. Just then, a couple police cruisers pulled up.

Misty directed them over and started hollering at the crowd. "Alright, people, back up!" she shouted, holding out her arms. "Back it up!" The officers from the cruisers hurried over and started doing the same until we were all backed up at least two yards. A loud crash sent my head turning left, just in time to see Luke hit the pavement in the street beside the shop hard, from the second floor apartment window.

My body instinctively jolted, backing up a step and sending a hand to cover my mouth. The crowd started to murmur encouraging one-liners. Diamondback stepped out the front door and started down the stairs, headed for Luke. "Come on, Luke, get up!" I found myself shouting right along with the anxious crowd, my stomach knots only tightening.

"Kick his butt, Cage!" someone yelled.

Just as Luke stood, Diamondback grabbed him and tossed him down the street. Luke was airborne for several yards before coming to a crashing slam into the road. The crowd made a collective, "OOOOOOHHHH." Luke got to his knees as Diamondback started for him again. I felt so helpless just standing there watching. But there was literally no way I could be of any help.

"Where are you going Carl? I'm gonna whoop your butt all up and down the block," Diamondback said, confidently. He got close enough and hiked his knee, slamming it into Luke's chin. Luke flew back and landed on top of an SUV parked along the sidewalk just behind him. The crowd hollered for Luke to keep fighting. All I could do was hold my breath as Diamondback walked by the SUV, yanking Luke off onto the hood by his collar as he went.

Diamondback slammed his fist into Luke a couple times, then they wrestled, struggling against each other. Luke got the upper hand and drove his knee into Diamondback's face. It knocked him away a few steps, enough for Luke to slide off the hood and stumble to his feet. The crowd cheered. Luke sent his fist into Diamondback's face, then grabbed him and slammed him into the side of the SUV.

A police humvee pulled up just as Diamondback got up to stand. He came at Luke, leapt up, and slammed his fist into Luke. Luke stumbled back, dropping to his knees from the hit. I bit my lower lip. _Come on, Luke. You can do this. I know you can_. "James never loved Etta. He was gonna leave your mother for mine," Diamondback taunted.

"No way, man, the guy's talking about your momma, Luke," some guy on the sidewalk said. "You up in Harlem, you better put it on him, son."

Luke then shot up to his feet and went at Diamondback. "Dwight, Thomas—spread out," A voice filter in my ears and I turned. A cop in riot gear was talking. "The second you have a clear shot, take it." The cops then started down the street toward the fight in formation. Oh, great. Now not only is Luke battling the idiot that is Diamondback, but now he's got to fight bullets. Luke and Diamondback exchanged hard hits.

Then Diamondback picked up a motorcycle and chucked it at Luke. Luke deflected it, and the bike dropped with a crash. The crowd was an overreacted, anxious bunch of weirdoes. Every move was causing them to make oh's and ah's. Luke slammed Diamondback and he went down. But the piece of trash was only on his knees. He stood a second later and grabbed Luke, slamming him to the ground.

I moved forward, just out front of the crowd to see better. Misty walked over to me. "Hey, I've gotta contain you just as I gotta contain everyone else."

"Relax, Robocop. What, you don't think he can do it?" I questioned.

"Of course he can do it," she answered, like it was a duh statement.

"Then get your boys in blue to back off." She looked like she was about to reply but I wasn't paying attention at that point. I was tuned into the fight. Luke looked drained. He took steps toward Diamondback as he spoke, halfway into a sentence I missed. "When I got shipped to Seagate, he called me a mistake, too," Luke said. "I'm not paying for his sins anymore. And neither should you. You want me dead, then kill me. Do it."

Diamondback lurched forward and slammed his fist into Luke's middle, hard. Then his face. Once, twice—I lost count. Luke was slammed back into a van behind him, shattering its windows. Then Diamondback's hits were ruthless and relentless. "Save him," Misty said, turning toward the cop beside her.

"No," the cop replied. I was angered. But I was almost too focused on the fight to care. Something came to mind from all those times patching up Matt last year. He said that his father would sometimes use the strategy of letting the other guy break their hands on him before fighting back, letting the other guy tire out so badly they couldn't fight back. Was that what Luke was doing? I hoped so.

Diamondback looked to be draining a moment. But he still slammed his head into Luke, slamming him back into the cratered van. Diamondback then stumbled into the street, away from Luke, disorientedly tired. Luke was breathing heavily, heaving even. But he lifted his head to look toward the crowd. His eyes landed right on me. I tried for my best hopeful _I believe in you_ expression.

But it was hard to hide the fact that I was shaking. "Come on, Superman," I said, inhaling. "Remember who you are." Luke slowly looked back to Diamondback. The poor idiot was still stammering in the middle of the street. Luke pushed off the van and stood, teetering a second. But then he began taking slow steps forward. Someone started chanting, "LUKE! LUKE! LUKE! LUKE!"

And in a moment the whole crowd was chanting. Shoot, I even joined in on the fun. Luke caught up to Diamondback, and started hitting him. One hard hit after another. Eventually Luke delivered the final blow. A hit that sent Diamondback flying into someone's yard across the street. The crowd went wild with screams and applause. A smile broke out across my face. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.

Diamondback was down. I guess my work here was officially done. And I already know what I want to do—no need for goodbyes. I sidestepped behind Misty and started for the sidewalk to the right. She was too focused on the fight to notice me slipping away. I only made it a few feet before an, "Alison!" stopped me. I paused, turning back around, just in time to get slammed.

Hands on my cheeks, lips capturing mine, holding them hostage. A warm feeling spread from my lips to my cheeks and down to my toes and my eyes fluttered shut. Gasps and murmurs came from the crowd, filtering into my eardrums through the haze. The kiss only lasted one long moment before Luke pulled away. I could feel his breath on my face and I opened my eyes. His were already on mine when I did.

"I'll be here…if you change your mind," he resigned, like he somewhere knew. He knew I didn't choose him. I smiled a little, trying to keep my composure after that honestly mind-blowing experience. "Thanks…but I don't think I will," I breathed. "I'm holding out for a hero." I knew he'd understand the reference to heroes. After all, he was mister 'I'm no hero' himself. He was still out of breath from the fight.

But he chuckled just a little, letting me go. "Keep my number. You might need a doctor someday," I said, taking steps backward, toward the sidewalk. His gaze held mine, smiling back, until I turned back around and finished my trip to the sidewalk. While I walked, for a moment, I couldn't help but think. Did I just make the worst decision of my life, or the best one?

 _The ghost of a smile played at his lips and I sighed, giving him a look. He was ridiculous. But it was a nice change of pace to see him something other than sad or angry. "Well, are you gonna kiss me, or what?" I asked, sarcastically impatient. He probably didn't need much of an invitation. He leaned in and I rose up on my toes, just in time to meld my mouth with his. I let my eyes close, relaxing into the touch as his right hand slid onto my cheek._

 _I parted my lips to deepen the kiss and he kissed me back even deeper. There was a solid wall behind me so I wasn't going anywhere any time soon, not with every inch of his being so close to my only escape. My hands rested on his chest, gripping his jacket for support. After a moment, he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against mine. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes._

It hit me then and I nodded once to myself. I know what I want. I know what I'm waiting for. I know what I need. I couldn't help smiling, wider than I had in weeks.

 **Dani's POV  
** (Nightwing27th)

"You need to tell her." I followed Frank into the guest room upstairs, shutting the door. I turned around and looked at him like he was an idiot. "What now?"

"What do you think?" I yelled it as quietly as possible. "I can't tell her." I practically spit out the words. "That's ludicrous."

"So is keeping it from her. She has a right to know."

I crossed my arms and stared at him. "This is the art where you black mail me, right?"

He sighed, turning to his bag on the bed. "Only if you don't tell her."

I grunted. "Fine. Just keep the guns hidden, okay? She doesn't need to know you bring your work home with you." He glared at me as I turned and left the room. I closed the door and then headed down the hall. I trotted down the steps and then into the kitchen. Laura had just finished setting the table and was walking back to the counter.

"Hey," I sheepishly said as I sat down at the counter.

"Yes...?" she asked skeptically, knowing that I wanted something.

"Okay," I gave up trying to hide it, sitting back. "I haven't been completely truthful with you." She looked at me expecting more. "About Frank," I clarified. She nodded.

"I understand if you can't tell me-"

"No, I can. I'm just choosing not to."

"Then why are you here?"

"To tell you."

"Why?"

"Because he thinks I should. And deep down I agree. Don't tell him I said that." She walked around the counter and stood next to me. "I'm sure you know about what happened in Hell's Kitchen? With The Hand, Elektra," she was nodding along with my words, "the Punisher?"

"Yeah, why?" But I didn't get a chance to answer. I saw it click in her eyes the second that question mark left her mouth. "No! No, Dani." She shook her head, walking back to where she was.

"Laura, give me-"

"No!" She leaned in. "Are you insane?"

"It's not what it looks like."

"Really?"

"What?"

"You let a mass murderer into my house and then tell me it's not what it looks like? Does Clint know?" She glared at me. She was freaking out, eyes wide. I slowly nodded, lips firmly sealed. "Of course he does."

"Lor, come on," I sighed, outstretching my arms across the counter. "Hear me out." She had her hand on her head, slightly passing. "Please?" I said helplessly. She stopped and looked at me. "Okay. I know you think I'm crazy, and I did too, but I don't and here's why," I spoke quickly before she could change her mind. "Yes, he's killed people. And, yes, it was for the right reasons." She tried to cut in and I held up my hand.

"But so have I," I said. She almost acted like she had ants in her pants knowing I was right. "I've killed...lots of people and you know that."

"But it's different with you Dani. I know you. I know who you are and what you stand for. That you're not going to go crazy and kill us."

"And he won't either."

"How do you know?"

"He only kills people who deserve it. Hence the name." She glared at me. "Look, everything they say in the news is true. Even the part about his family. But, that aside, I trust him. I trust him, Laura, with you and my family. He's dating Alison for Pete's sake. Do you really think I'd let that go on if I thought there might be a chance he'd hurt her?"

"He shot you, Dani," she argued. "Clint told me that he put a gun to your head and made Matt decide who was going to die."

"Yeah, I know. But we all make mistakes," I said hopefully. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me like I was a child she was about to get in trouble for breaking something. I sighed and slightly dropped my head. I thought for a second and then looked back up at her. "Look. He and I got off on the wrong foot, okay? Yeah, we started out trying to kill each other. But the more I got to know him the more I knew why. I know it's hard to understand, even for me. But he left Hell's Kitchen with me to help find Ward.

"And that's what we did. We found him and now he's dead. Okay? We've fought together, had each other's backs. I've trusted him with my life several times and he's trusted me with his." She didn't seem to be changing her mind. "Think what you want, but please don't make a thing out of this. Nothing's going to happen."

About twenty minutes later we were all sitting down at the table for dinner. Laura's had a scowl on her face since I told her who Frank was. Which is why I sat him near the end of the table. Clint was at the head, his kids on the other side, Laura at the end with Nate, and then me with Lizzie in a highchair in between me and Frank.

Clint was eyeing me the whole time, knowing that I spilled the beans. I'm sure Frank knows too. The air in here is so thick you can almost choke on it. And so far, no one has said anything but the kids. They we like crazy talkative tonight. They had to ask me everything you can imagine. 'Why were you gone?', 'Why'd you come back?', 'When are you leaving?'.

Somehow they even knew I had broken up with Matt and started asking me about my 'relationship status'. Not my favorite topic. Never has been. "Okay, guys," Clint said, "that's enough." They sighed in protest and then went back to eating. Lizzie couldn't sit still in her chair. She was bouncing while simultaneously kicking her legs. She had peas everywhere. She was more bored than hungry.

I had my chair slightly turned toward her so I could see her. I ran my hand across the top of her head, my fingers going through her blonde hair. It was so blonde you almost couldn't see it. Just like her mom. I sighed glancing up. I saw Clint looking at me again. He was giving me the 'what for' look. Like, 'Why did you tell her?'. I shrugged, which meant 'I don't know, because it was the right thing to do. Duh.'

He rolled his eyes, meaning 'No, it wasn't.'

I sighed and went back to eating. A few seconds later I heard Lizzie say, "Here." She didn't know very many words, but when she did say something it was always so innocent and cute. I looked at her, assuming she was talking to me. But she wasn't. She was talking to Frank. She was practically leaning all the way out of her highchair, arm outstretched holding her Sippy cup.

He looked down at her with a blank look. Probably shocked she was talking at all, let alone to him. She sat there like that staring at him holding out the cup. She shook it, "Here." She was very happy and egger for him to take it. He stared at her another second, then his eyes flicked to me.

"You better take it," I joked. Lizzie looked at me, then back to him shaking the cup. Frank brought his hand up and took the cup. Lizzie jumped back, clapping and giggling. The she picked up her plastic spoon. She held it out with a smile, "Here."

I smiled, knowing he's created a monster. Lizzie's always been fascinated with men. Mary and I always thought it was because she wasn't growing up with a father. And she's a giver. She loves giving people things. Clint also tells me that she'll take things and hide them till you find they're gone. Then she'll come back with it like she's the one who found it.

I looked at Laura. I gave her a look like, 'See? He's harmless.' She didn't seem to think so. "Can I talk to you a minute?" She was standing and walking away before I could reply. I sighed and stood. "Be right back," I said. I walked around the highchair, tossing my napkin on Lizzie's head as I did. I heard her burst out laughing, followed by, "Here."

I found Laura in the living room, arms crossed. "Yeah?"

"I don't care what you tell me about him," she said, "I can't help but feel like I've let the enemy into my house."

I sighed. "You just need more time to get to know him."

"Who? The Mass Murderer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lor."

"No, I mean it. I just...I don't feel safe with him around, having him near my kids."

"Look, it's just a couple days," I reasoned. She sighed, clearly not okay with that. She put her hands on her hips, looking around. "What would make you feel better about this?" She just looked around shaking her head. "You were perfectly fine with the Hulk staying here. You know, the big green guy who could've smashed you and your house?"

"I know. That was different."

"How?" I asked. She sighed.

"I don't know."

I walked up to her and put my hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. "Then trust me when I say, I promise nothing will happen to you or your family. After all the years that we've known each other, why would I let someone know where you lived if I thought there was even the tiniest chance...that they'd hurt you?" She shook her head. "And after everything with Ward and Ben, I'm on a crazy level of high alert and I don't hand out my trust very easily.

"Like, if you thought I trusted easily before...then, this is insane, okay? The level to which I'm holding people is...inhuman." She slightly glared at me at the last part. The she looked down smiling. "Okay?"

"Okay," she said. "Okay. I'll trust you."

"Why? I thought you said you already did?" She started laughing. "Okay. Come on, let's go. We should get back before Lizzie tries to give Frank her soul."


	5. The Cafe in Hell

**Dani's POV**  
(Nightwing27th)

"Lizzie, why?" Everyone laughed at me as I pulled Lizzie out of her highchair. Breakfast was fine socially. Much better than last night. But...and that's a big but, Lizzie had a little too much fun with her food. She had syrup EVERYWHERE. And I mean EVERYWHERE. Like, she could barley open her eyes.

I held her has far away from me as I could and then hauled her butt upstairs and into the tub. I sat her in the tub and then stripped her, running the water to get the right temp. I kicked on the shower and then held her up, away from me, under the stream. I made sure she could still breathe, of course. But I held her there until all the syrup melted off.

Then I sat her down and shut off the shower, dumping a bunch of soap on her. If anything just to get the smell out. This kid is going to smell like maple for a week. And of course all she wanted to do was play. She was squealing and blowing the suds around.

"Will you please stop?" She looked at me and then flicked bubbles in my face. She instantly burst into an uncontrollable laughter. So much so, that she fell over. I sighed and righted her, turning the water back on. About twenty minutes later, I pulled her out of the tub and dried her off. I wrapped her in the towel and then exited the bathroom.

I walked into the guest room, the room Frank and I were sharing, and to the bed. Frank was standing next to the bed, his duffel bag open in front of him. He looked up at me and smiled, probably cause he heard everything that went on in the bathroom. I put Lizzie on the floor and then went to the dresser, looking for clothes.

"Going somewhere?" I asked him, digging through the drawer.

"I think so," he said. I stopped and turned around. He sat at the head of the bed, pushing the bag farther down. I went back to the drawer. I found pants and a shirt. I shut the drawer and then snagged a diaper. I turned around with the clothes...and all I saw was a towel on the ground. I looked up and the door was open.

"Great." I dropped my arms in defeat, and then tossed the clothes on the bed. I sighed and then sat on the end of the bed.

"Looks like you've got your hands full."

"That I do," I nodded. I looked at Frank. He was looking down, holding something in his hands. I don't know if he knows I know this, but...Frank has been carrying around two pictures with him. One is of his family. The other is a picture of Alison and Chase that I took a year ago. I think I know which one he's looking at now. "You miss her." It was more a statement.

"Yeah," he said, "I do."

"Think she'll take you back? Never mind, that's a stupid question. This is Alison we're talking about, of course she'll take you back." He looked up at me with that look like I was being stupid again. And maybe I was. "She'd be stupid not to." His features slightly softened, deep in thought. He looked back down at the photo.

I hopped off the bed. "Well, I have to go find me a naked girl," I said that just to get a rise out of him. It didn't work. "But, first." I walked around the bed to my bag. I dug in it a second and then pulled out a folded piece of paper. I walked up to him. "Here you go."

"What?"

"Take it," I shoved the papers in his face. "One way to Hell's Kitchen." It was a plane ticket and a passport. Fake, of course.

"Everyone knows my face," he said, looking down at the papers.

"Which is why that's for a private jet. One I have used many times." He looked up at me, seeing if I was pulling the wool over his eyes. "No strings attached, just take it. It leaves in three hours."

"When did you do this?"

"Two days ago."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you'd cave."

"What about you?"

"There's not much in Hell's Kitchen for me," I said and he nodded. "Who knows?" I started backing up to the door, "we may never see each other again."

"I doubt that," he scoffed.

"Why? Gonna miss me?" I teased. He just glared at me. I smiled and then left the room.

 **Alison's POV**  
(bellamysgirl)

My feet were dragging a bit, my body too tired to pick them up all the way. I was just thankful I left my duffel bag in the car. Finally I arrived at Matt's door and I rapped my knuckles on it a couple times. "Matt, it's me," I said, stepping back. "I'm here to get my child."

It only took a moment for the door to pull open, revealing Matt standing in the doorway. "Hey. Chase fell asleep a while ago. He's on the couch," Matt stepped back, gesturing for me to come in. And I did, shuffling past him and making a b-line for the couch. After all that's happened in Harlem, I need to see my son. As I got closer to the couch I could make out his small form, curled up against the armrest, covered in one of Matt's blankets.

I stepped around the front of the couch and crouched to be pretty much eye-level with him, then gently ran my fingers back through his dark curls. Out of the corner of my eye and I could see Matt amble through and into the kitchen. I sighed lightly. The past couple of days have been crazy. But I know it was worth it, looking at Chase.

"Wanna drink?"

Matt's voice filtered in from off behind the couch, followed by the sound of the fridge door opening. I stood, exhaling heavily, and walked around the corner of the couch. "Sure," I said, keeping my voice down a notch as to not wake Chase. "Lord knows I could use one." Matt emerged from the open fridge with a beer in each hand. He turned and edged the door closed with his elbow, then took steps toward me.

He held out one of the bottles and I took it gratefully. "So, where'd you go?" he asked, mildly curious. He slid into a chair at his pathetic excuse for a dining table and I followed suit, easing myself into a chair opposite him. I sighed, popping open the cap on my beer. "Harlem," I answered. I took a long pull from the bottle while Matt spoke.

"Harlem? Why were you all the way in Harlem?"

I sat back. "Someone needed my help. A friend."

"This friend…he have a name?" He asked it harmlessly. With a lighthearted, non-intrusive tone and everything. But I knew exactly why he was asking. My eyes instinctively narrowed and I took a deep breath. "Matt…don't think I don't know where this is going," I warned, calmly. "It was a vigilante call, not a social one. So I'm not at liberty to divulge any other information."

"But-"

"I don't go around gabbing about your late night activities, do I?" I pointed out, causing him to sit back in his chair with a deflated sigh.

"Yeah, you're right," he resigned, quietly. I exhaled and leaned back in my chair, taking another drink. I raised an eyebrow curiously as Matt suddenly went rigid. His head tilted to the side. "You're hurt. On your arm, you've got a bandage. You're skin's hot-"

"Okay, remember that one time you promised not to do that?"

"Do what?"

"What you're doing right now—reading me without permission."

"Alison, I'm concerned. You drop your son off at my apartment and then disappear for days without a word, then you come back but you can't tell me anything and you're injured. Do you at least want some ice? That's what you're supposed to put on burns, right?" That last bit was dryly sarcastic.

"Matt, oh my- look, yes, I have a burn on my arm. But I'm okay. No one _did_ this to me; it was a misinterpretation of information. A warehouse exploded. But- uh…this… _vigilante_ helped me out. That's why I'm not completely toast, alright? And yes…I would like ice," I cracked a small smile and he huffed a chuckle, nodding as he stood.

"Coming right up."

"Thanks for watching him, by the way. I hope you know I'm going to pay you—weather you like it or not."

He laughed a little from the kitchen, the sound almost completely drowned out by the clattering of ice. "You don't need to pay me," he replied, just before the freezer door clicked shut. "We had a good time. It turns out he knows more presidents than I do. _And_ he can name almost every element on the periodic table."

He sat down and held out the bag of ice he'd collected. I took it but my eyebrows furrowed. "How do you know that?" I asked, bewildered.

"Eh, we sort of ran out of things to do," he shrugged.

I nodded slowly. "Uh-huh…I see."

I shrugged off my jacket and carefully held the bag of ice to my arm. It caused a slight sting at first and I hissed, readjusting the bag. "So…did it help? The time away?" Matt asked, almost hesitant. I sighed contently at the relief the ice was giving me from the heat on my arm. Then I glanced up at Matt. I shook my head. "I don't know. I think so. I think I've made up my mind."

He exhaled, slumping in his chair a bit. "Alison…"

"I know, okay? You think it's pointless, that it was just a dream. I don't care. Matt-" I sat forward in my seat. "-I don't _want_ anyone else. In Harlem, I thought maybe something else was something I could use, like it was something I needed. But this guy kissed me and—while it felt amazing to be touched again—it wasn't what I was looking for. It wasn't _Frank_. And I'm not gonna find him with other guys."

He nodded a little, obviously thinking about something weighing heavily on him. Probably Dani. He'd all but refused to talk about her ever since he came back to Hell's Kitchen from being at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base in who knows where. But I knew they'd split. I took a drink from my beer then set the bottle back down on the table. "Looking for a job?"

"Me?" Matt asked, suddenly snapping out of his train of deep thought.

"Yes, you," I smirked, rolling my eyes.

He laughed. "Um, is business at the café _that_ bad?"

"Kind of. I mean, I'm just lucky that Lucy was ready to work by herself in time."

"Yeah. She seems nice."

My smirk turned into a sly smile. "Why? Because she flirts with you every time you bring Chase home from school?" He chuckled, looking down and away, smiling half-heartedly. He cleared his throat and took a long drink from his beer, obviously trying to avoid replying. I leaned back in my seat. "Oh, come on, you can't honestly tell me you haven't thought about it," I pointed out.

"You're right, I can't."

"Then why not ask her out?"

"You know what you said about not finding what you were looking for?" I sat up in my seat a little, nodding. He finished, "I can't find it there. Or here. Or really anywhere. I've been…telling myself it won't last, that any minute things will go back to the way they were but…" he shook his head with a humorless chuckle. "They won't. They won't ever. And _I_ can't even hope that what I'm looking for will ever be found. Because she doesn't _want_ to be found."

I didn't know what to say to that for a long moment of quiet. He hadn't talked about anything like this with me for so long. I almost forgot what he looked like sad. I put the ice bag on the table and leaned on the table top on my forearms, "Matt…you're right. You won't find her. But, keep your mind open, and she just might find you."

"Mom? Is that you?"

I instantly twisted in my chair to see behind me. Chase was sitting up now, rubbing his tired eyes. "Yeah, honey, it's me," I stood and hurried around the couch. "Sorry. Did we wake you up?" I dropped onto the cushion beside him and he crawled into my lap, wrapping his arms around my middle and nestling his face into the crook of my neck. "I missed you," he yawned.

"I missed you, too."

I wound my arms around him snuggly and kissed the top of his head. I could tell it wouldn't be long before he was asleep again. This was the perfect opportunity to get him out of here and into the car. "Come on, let's get you in your own bed, yeah?" I spoke softly, easing him upright.

"Okay…" he slumped to the left.

I slid my arms under his and he latched onto me like a leach as I stood, hefting him up with me. It was a miracle I was even strong enough to hold him up anymore, let alone take to the stairs with him. I carried him over to the table and grabbed my jacket off the chair. "Call me tomorrow, okay?" I said, directing it at Matt.

Chase groggily replied, "Why would I call you?"

Matt laughed a little as he stood, nodding. "I will," he agreed, despite Chase's interruption. "I'll grab his bag." Matt shuffled around me and disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later he emerged with Chase's back pack. He helped me slung it on my shoulder so I could take everything at once. And, with Matt's help in opening the front door, I made it out just fine. Now it's just getting this rug rat to the car in one piece. _Challenge accepted_.


	6. Webbed Idiot

**Alison's POV**  
(bellamysgirl)

As soon as the elevator doors slid open, I was out and walking through the door to the Bulletin's bullpen. Coffee in hand, notes and files in my bag—I was ready to inform an army. Thankfully for me, I just had to talk to Ellison and then I was out of here. I was halfway to his office when suddenly a bearded blur buzzed by me, to Caldwell's old desk, handing out assignments. At first I thought he didn't notice me.

But then he handed out the last papers he held and turned to face me, and I slowed to a stop a foot from him. He wore a tired expression. "Busy morning?" I asked, rhetorically. He gave a mild groan and motioned for me to follow him as he turned and started for his office. That was his version of a completely over-stressed _yes_. I've seen it too many times to not get it. So I sighed and followed him to the office.

"Tell me you've got something," he said, with an undertone of desperation as he swung open the office door, pushing through into the room. I stepped in behind him and closed the door. I inhaled, reaching into my bag. "I was in Harlem last night," I started. The second the H in Harlem came out, he was perking up, his eyes rounding. "I typed up the rough draft this morning, but-"

"Wait wait- you were there? Did you see the fight?" he asked, eagerly.

I nodded once. "Yeah. And a lot of other things—which, are all in the article. Yet another vigilante exposed for your front page. Should get you a pretty decent post-holiday bonus." I unearthed the thick stack of papers that was my article and held it out to him. As soon as he took it, I reached back into my bag. "And..." I dug out a file folder and held it out to him. "Here are the sources and extra tid-bits I didn't mention."

He made a small, airy chuckle of relief, skimming through the article. He looked up after a second and took the folder, too. "You're a Godsend, Fletcher," he exhaled. "I don't suppose you mentioned the Carl Lucas scandal in this?"

I paused, my eyebrows knitting together. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"Um, the news? You said you were there."

"Yeah, but I left right after the street brawl. What did I miss?"

Ellison moved back a step and leaned his bottom half into his desk, folding his arms across his chest. "Turns out Luke Cage is an escaped convict from Seagate prison, real name is Carl Lucas. Guess police took him back last night," he explained, calmly. My shoulders dropped. So I guess Mariah either didn't hold up her end of the deal, or she really didn't have anything for him in the first place.

That's just great. I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Wonderful...well, Luke Cage being a hero will have to be enough of a headline for the Kitchen next issue. I have to get to work."

"Hey, uh, thanks again for this," Ellison stood. "Every time there's a new vigilante story with your byline, we sell more papers than we did before it all went digital."

"You don't pay me to sit on my butt." I shrugged with a small smile, turned, and left the office. I opened with Lucy this morning but she took over for me so I could come here before starting at the Café for the rest of the day. That girl has really made a difference. I mean, I was floundering trying to run that place by myself. I probably should've hired someone to help out sooner. I only let myself do it because I stopped telling myself I was replacing Mary.

Because, honestly, I wasn't. Nothing could ever fill that space. Lucy is to help me out with what's left after the space was emptied. The drive back to the Café was quick. Mostly because this time in the car I wasn't half asleep. It took everything in me to pull myself out of bed, whip out the article, and then open the Café. Then I took Chase to school and went straight to the Bulletin. I pulled into the alley driveway beside the Café and cut the engine.

It didn't seem too busy from the outside. Maybe the universe will take it easy on me and only give me a little bit of customers? Eh, probably not. Oh well. I eased myself out of the car, shutting the door behind me, and started for the front of the building. I held open the door for a couple prospective customers and then walked over to the counter. Lucy was in the dining room talking to customers at a table.

She was gesturing wildly at a menu, talking quickly, probably having picky recipients. I hate those. What's on the menu is what we serve. Why is that so hard? I shrugged off my jacket and tucked it under the counter, washed my hands, and tied on the little half apron around my waist. My arm was still burning and uncomfortable. But I couldn't take a day off. I mean, this is _my_ business. So I checked for orders and got to work.

There was a pretty good line up of drink orders, so I got the appropriate glasses and started filling them. Lucy came back to the counter after another five minutes with her customers. She dropped her tray on the counter with a heavy, stressed sigh. "Oh...my... _gosh_ ," she vented, resuming her position in the kitchen, getting some ingredients together.

I chuckled a little, smiling as I glanced back at her. "Problems?"

"YES. You order a chicken salad, you're gonna get chicken on it. Why would you think it's vegetarian? Really people? It says _CHICKEN_ in the title." I tossed my head back in a laugh and she exhaled heavily, cutting her peppers on the cutting board a little too hard. She was practically pummeling the poor things. "Need to take a break? I can handle the front," I offered.

"No..." she sighed. "I'm fine, really."

She seemed to be fine after a while of cooking. I went back to my normal position as hostess, cashier, and waitress. It was nice to be back to my old rhythm after what happened in Harlem. The only thing that got me through the afternoon was the thought of my decision to wait it out. I know I made the right choice. But the cynic in me vibrated my bones with disagreeance.

It was screaming at me with doubts. If Frank was still alive, why would he even come back here? Why would he risk getting discovered just to see me? After all he did to get away? What a waste. I tried shaking it off for hours. Finally, after a long dry patch, the bell above the door jingled. I glanced up from the table I was wiping down and paused. "Peter? What are you doing here?" I smiled.

"Hey, Alison," he smiled back, walking straight for me. "Thought it was time I stopped by and check in on things."

"It's so good to see you." I dropped my rag and walked to meet him in the middle, throwing my arms around his neck in a hug. He hugged me back almost instantly. "How are you?" he asked, stepping back after a moment.

I nodded a little, sighing lightly. "Fine, I guess. I could be better. How's school?"

"It's good. Great, actually," he bobbed his head in a nod.

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head in a skeptical expression. "You didn't come here just to check in, did you? Why'd you really come here, Parker?"

"Is it that obvious?" he cringed.

"A blind guy could tell you're lying."

He sighed heavily. "Okay, you're right. I didn't come here to check in. I mean, I wanted to do that anyway. But I actually wanted to ask for a favor."

"Anything," I agreed, loosely folding my arms.

"I need you to set up a meeting with Daredevil."

"Except that," I shook my head. Then my eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you want to talk to Daredevil? You live in Queens and I'm pretty sure he's just local." I quickly glanced left as a thought came to mind. Lucy was sitting sideways on the bottom stair, eyes glued to a book in her right hand, her left hand hanging down to scratch Boss's head. She wasn't listening. Good. I turned back to Peter.

He stammered through an explanation. "I don't need his help. Not like that, I mean. I wanted to ask him about, you know...what it's like, being a vigilante—what it takes. Like, how hard it is to wear a mask. How in the world he's still in one piece out there kicking butt-"

"Peter, where is this coming from?" I asked, bewildered.

"I want to do more," he sighed. "I...I did some diving, made myself some upgrades...I'm ready. To help people."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I felt like I was about to have 'the talk' with him. I took in a deep breath and lifted my head to look at him. "No, you're not. Peter, you're just a kid, you're still in high school. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don't need to lose all of that," I said, calmly.

"But, Alison, I can help people! I already have, why can't I do more?" he questioned, genuinely not understanding my lack of acceptance to the idea.

I glanced to the stairs. Lucy hadn't noticed the rise in Peter's tone, thankfully. I put a hand on his arm, guiding him a few steps in the other direction with me. "Listen to me, okay? You do not want this. I have seen...great men lose everything from being a vigilante. Weather it was helping people or not—it doesn't matter. Either way, they didn't get happy endings, Peter," I explained, lowering my voice a bit. "Daredevil? He's not just a vigilante. He's a man. He has a life, people he loves. And you know what being a vigilante has done for him?"

Peter shook his head a little, his face sobering more and more with each word. "No."

"It isolated him to the point of no return. Frank Castle is dead. Luke Cage is going back to prison. There's a theme here, Peter. They all end up dead or alone. And I don't want to be the one that writes your obituary in the papers. This life...it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give, and then it takes your soul," I continued.

"What if...what if I'm careful? What if I don't kill people?" he asked, his tone hopeful and optimistic. "If I get injured, I could just call you, right? That's why you helped the other vigilantes. I can do this. Like you said, I have my whole life ahead of me—I can make it work."

I exhaled, my shoulders dropping. He was too determined. We'd just be arguing here all night if we kept going like this, going round and round with the same points phrased a little differently each time. I didn't want him to get hurt. Or lose that adorable, dorky spirit he had. He was so smart. So bright. "I know you're a stubborn twig and you're just gonna do it anyway," I resigned. "Make me a promise."

"Anything," he nodded quickly, eager to have my support.

"Don't ever kill someone, not unless it's down to you or the other guy. They make it look cool in the movies. But it takes everything you have. Promise me you will not cross that line when you're out swinging around Queens," I said.

He visibly inhaled and nodded, slower this time. "Okay...I promise. I won't kill anyone."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. "Be careful, kid. Don't tell anyone who you are, even if you think you trust them. Call me first if anything at all happens, the second it happens, got it?" His arms wrapped around my middle just a second after mine went around his neck. He held on almost as tightly.

He nodded against my shoulder. "Yeah, I got it. Don't worry. I'm gonna be okay, I promise."

"If I had a dollar…" I trailed, stepping back with an attempted smile.

He chuckled. "You'd probably live in a mansion, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Hey, Alison?" I twisted to find Lucy knelt next to Boss, her brow firmly creased as she watched him chewing on something. "Is he supposed to have a doll?" A doll? Where would he get a…oh no. I groaned and practically ran over, sliding onto my knees in front of the pitbull. "Boss, drop it," I demanded.

He chewed a second longer before spitting out a gnarled, saliva covered action figure. It was almost unidentifiable. And, for a second, I thought it would be okay. That Chase wouldn't even know this nameless toy was missing. But something caught my eye out of my peripheral and I glanced to the right. Dread filled the pit of my stomach. To the right of the dog bed was a small, plastic rendition of Captain America's shield.

And that's when I knew I would never hear the end of this. I ruefully picked up the shield and sighed heavily. "I think I'm gonna be sleeping with you tonight, buddy," I huffed, dropping my shoulders. I grabbed the crumpled action figure and stood, then walked over to the sink. "I didn't even notice him leave," Lucy said, apologetically.

"It's okay, it's not your fault," I assured, running the toy under warm water. "It's not your job to watch the dog."

"When did you get a dog?!" Peter exclaimed. I glanced behind me. He was crouching next to Boss, scratching behind his ear. I turned back to the sink and scrubbed a little at the spit refusing to leave the toy. "Um…he's not really mine. He belongs to my boyfriend, actually," I admitted.

"Your-? Oh…" Peter got it a second after he'd asked.

There was a bit of awkward to his tone. _Well, what else would I get from Peter Parker?_ That boy was a rolling storm cloud of awkward and adorkable tendencies. Finally, I decided to give up on the stupid toy. Even when I got the saliva and slobber off of it the thing was still mangled and deformed. I sighed and dropped it in the trash, then turned back to the others.

"No one mentions this to Chase," I said. "I will…just buy him a new one and hope he doesn't notice."

Lucy nodded. "Got it, boss," The dog perked up and she glanced down at him, pursing her lips. "Not you." He grunted and huffed, laying his head back down. Sometimes it's like that dog actually understands English. And other times he's as thick as a brick wall. But he's been a great listener. Suddenly a thought popped into my head as Peter stood from his spot by the dog bed.

I held up a finger. "I completely forgot—you guys don't know each other. Lucy, this is Peter Parker. Peter, this is Lucy Davis."

The two looked to each other and Peter held out his hand. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Lucy smiled, shaking his hand.

"So, uh, how long have you been working for this broad?" he asked, gesturing toward me before resting his hands loosely on his hips.

Lucy giggled. "Only a couple weeks. But, she's been great."

She looked to me and I smiled, leaning my hip into the side of the counter while simultaneously crossing my arms and closing the door to the under-sink storage area. "How, uh, how do you like working here?" he asked, casually crossing his arms. I almost blurted out something that would've embarrassed Peter, but I kept it in. That boy was _smitten_. The first dead giveaway was the 'uh' he inserted in every sentence.

It was a stammering nervous tick. He's been doing it as long as I've known him. He even did it a couple times when we first met, but he quickly got over that, once he finally realized it was never going to happen. "Oh, it's great. I like keeping busy and this place gets a lot of traffic," Lucy bobbed her head as she talked. "It's an interesting area for a Café, too."

Peter opened his mouth and I interjected, sighing, "Um, Peter?" He glanced at me quickly. I propped an eyebrow up. "Won't Aunt May be wondering where you got to?" He was frozen a second, his features unmoving. But then every inch of his face contorted to show his complete and utter panic, his lips forming a wide 'O'. He quickly checked his wrist watch, only to find that I was right.

"Um, yeah- I gotta…go," he jutted a thumb toward the door and quickly dashed around Lucy. "Don't work too hard, ladies!"

"Come back when you can stay longer," Lucy suggested, politely.

Peter was half twisted to keep walking forward while looking behind him. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah- um, sure-" I could see it about to happen before it did, but I let it slide. His front slammed into the glass door with a hollow thump and he scrambled in a flail of limbs, quickly recovering to pull the door open. Once outside, he turned and gave a small wave before hurrying up the sidewalk.


End file.
